


11: Broken

by gillasue345



Series: 100 Prompts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 100 prompts, Alcoholic Dean, F/M, deanlisa, smut with feelings, spn season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillasue345/pseuds/gillasue345
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you have a good nap?” he asked between kisses. </p><p>“Hmm,” she said. “I did. I had the craziest dream though.” Lisa pressed closer, fisting the back of his t-shirt in her small hands. </p><p>“Did you?” he murmured, pressing his face into her neck. </p><p>“Yeah. Dreamt you and Ben were fishing, but instead of catching crappie or bass, you were catching vampires.” Lisa pressed closer, slotting her hips next to Dean’s. “You were just sitting on the dock, reeling them in with your poles, and then Ben held up the net while you staked them through the heart. It was the stupidest dream.” Dean stilled his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	11: Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous: Fic prompt meme: 011 Dean/Lisa

100 Prompts Challenge

11: Broken

March 13, 2010

Cicero, Indiana

It was a rare day off for the both of them. Usually Dean worked overtime at the build site on Saturday mornings and Lisa had evening yoga classes at the gym; they rarely saw each other on the weekends, but the stars had aligned in their favor for once. 

The sudden snowstorm had caught everyone by surprise. 

Ben had stayed over at Joey’s house the night before, and as soon as they woke up, several inches of snow having already fallen, Lisa had called Amanda. They were supposed to pick Ben up at noon from his sleepover, but the plows hadn’t even come through their neighborhood yet and Dean _hated_ driving in the snow. There were too many variables in play. Too much was out of his control. Amanda had been happy to have Ben stay another night until the plows came through. 

Then Paul, Dean’s boss, had called and told him to stay home. Even the twenty four hour gym Lisa worked at had shut their doors. 

After hanging up the phone, Dean had waggled his eyes at Lisa and gestured towards their bedroom door. She’d laughed, but followed him. They spent the morning cuddled up in their warm bed, alternating between naps and lazy morning sex. 

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent an entire day cuddling in bed with a beautiful woman. The past few years had been so full of strife, it was nice to forget about that for a while and just be.The electricity cut out at noon and Dean sighed, pulling away from the warmth of Lisa’s body and getting dressed. He shrugged on his old leather jacket and went outside for firewood.

Dean had spent much of the previous autumn chopping wood for an old farmer who had hired him to do some manual labor while Dean had been between construction jobs. Sonny had taught him how to chop wood with efficiency while he had been in the boys home, and he was no stranger to physical labor. Plus the work allowed him to destroy something. To break it apart and focus on something other than the constant ache in the pit of his stomach. 

The farmer had offered him decent pay and all the wood he could haul back home and in the end, he’d wound up with a large supply of firewood neatly stacked near the retaining wall in the back yard. He’d also been able to afford the down payment on his used pickup truck. 

By the time he made it back into the living room, his arms laden with firewood, Lisa had dressedin one of his t-shirts and a pair of faded flannel shorts. She was standing in the kitchen, putting together a couple of turkey sandwiches. 

The backup generator had kicked in, but they hadn’t wanted to overload it, so they turned off the lights and unplugged any extra electronics. They left the fridge running. Neither one of them wanted to deal with a fridge full of warm food. 

Dean stacked the wood neatly onto the grate in the fireplace, and started a large fire. Lisa had brought over the sandwiches just as he was putting is lighter back into his pocket. She plopped onto the couch and he joined her. They ate in companionable silence. That was one of the things he loved most about Lisa. She had the ability to make even silence comfortable. He didn't have to pretend with her. He could just be Dean. 

After lunch Dean cleaned up the dishes, leaving the faucets drip into a towel to prevent the pipes from freezing. He then pulled out one of the demonology books Bobby had sent him earlier that week and set to work, sprawled out on the couch, with Lisa’s feet in his lap. Every now and again, he scratched a note in the margins with a stubby pencil. Lisa read the latest Stephen King thriller.

The storm hadn’t let up at all as the day wore on and by the time the sun set, almost a foot and a half of snow coated the ground. Lisa had fallen asleep, her soft snores filling the silence of the living room. Dean shut his book and glanced over at her sleeping form. Her t-shirt, a faded Led Zeppelin shirt he’d picked up in a thrift store when he was sixteen, had bunched up around her waist, exposing her flat stomach. The c-section scar on her belly stood out in the low firelight. He traced his fingertips over the scar and she huffed, turning away from his tickling caress. 

Dean looked at his watch. It was almost supper time. Careful not to wake her up, he lifted her feet from his lap and rose from the couch, grabbing a blanket from the armchair to cover her. 

He then set about making supper. There wasn’t a lot you could cook without electricity, but he was able to cobble together a dinner of tuna fish sandwiches and chips, one of Lisa’s favorites. 

He had just finished making the second sandwich when a pair of arms wrapped around his middle. He froze and it took everything he had not to react violently. He still wasn’t used to gentle caresses, or surprise hugs. It hadn’t been a major part of his life before moving in with Lisa. Physical affection—hugs, a brush of the fingers, a ruffle of the hair— it had always been something he associated with sex, and physical intimacy outside of that context still caught him off guard. 

Usually, if someone surprised him it was because they were about to hurt him. Dean tensed and Lisa pulled back quickly. 

“Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t meant to scare you.” 

Dean let out a breath and turned around, bending down and leaning against the island countertop. “It’s okay,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in for a deep kiss. _She won’t hurt me. I’m safe._

“Did you have a good nap?” he asked between kisses. 

“Hmm,” she said. “I did. I had the craziest dream though.” Lisa pressed closer, fisting the back of his t-shirt in her small hands. 

“Did you?” he murmured, pressing his face into her neck. 

“Yeah. Dreamt you and Ben were fishing, but instead of catching crappie or bass, you were catching vampires.” Lisa pressed closer, slotting her hips next to Dean’s. “You were just sitting on the dock, reeling them in with your poles, and then Ben held up the net while you staked them through the heart. It was the stupidest dream.” Dean stilled his hands. 

“That isn’t how you kill a vampire,” Dean said, and she chuckled. 

“I told you it was stupid.”

“You know that’ll never happen right?” Lisa pulled back, confused.  

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

Dean brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Ben will _never_ go hunting with me. He won’t grow up the way I did.”

Her gaze softened into something akin to pity and Dean felt the pit of his stomach lurch. He swallowed thickly and glanced around for something to change the subject. His eyes fell on the tuna sandwiches resting on the counter. “Are you hungry?” he asked. Lisa hesitated, as if she wanted to say something, but then just nodded her head. 

“Starving,” she finally said. “You want a beer?” Dean shook his head. 

“We got any of that Wild Turkey left?” He’d expected her to say something, but Lisa just nodded and pulled the bottle from the top shelf of the pantry before pulling out a beer for herself. She flipped on the radio and turned it to a Top 40 station. Dean rolled his eyes but said nothing. 

He dug around the cabinets for a clean glass but only found a chipped Garfield mug Sam had gotten him when he was twelve. It was one of the few things he had left from when they were kids, aside from the faded old quilt he kept in the basket by the armchair, the one that still smelled like his brother’s aftershave. Dean smiled sadly before pulling the coffee mug out. 

He poured himself three fingers of Wild Turkey and joined her at the kitchen table 

Without Ben, the table seemed too big for them. They ate quietly, sitting next to one another on the bench. Dean hooked his ankle around Lisa’s and she scooted closer to him. Lisa took a swig of her beer. 

“Can I ask you something?” she said hesitantly.

Dean looked up from his sandwich. “Sure,” he replied, taking another bite of tuna. 

“Where did you grow up?” her voice was carefully neutral. 

Dean looked over at her, trying to gauge her motivations. He looked away. 

“All over really,” he said and he took another sip of whiskey. “Mostly we stayed in the midwest but after my mom died, we lived on the road.” he shrugged. “We spent a few summers with Bobby and one with a pastor over in Blue Earth. Once we stayed in New Mexico for almost six months.” 

“You lived in the car?” she asked. 

“No, usually in motels. Unless money was tight. Then we’d go ‘camping,’” Dean chuckled bitterly. “But that was only if we were in a warm place. If not, we squatted.” 

He smiled tightly. “I haven’t had a home in a long time,” he said, finally looking up to met her eye. “But I do now.” 

Lisa’s eyes were filled with tears. “I am so sorry.” 

“What for? You couldn’t have changed anything,” 

“I know but—”

“Lisa, my life has been varying degrees of awful from the time I was four years old. I’ve accepted it,” he took another long swallow of whiskey, emptying the mug. 

“You shouldn’t have had to.” 

“Yeah,” he popped the last bite of the sandwich into his mouth and stood up. “You want another one?” 

Lisa shook her head and he picked up her plate. Dean set the plates into the sink and began turned on the water. He refilled his glass and began to put the leftovers away. 

Lisa came up behind him and pressed her face to the back of his neck. He didn’t jump this time. 

“I love you,” she murmured against his skin. 

Dean softened, spinning around from the island and pressing a kiss to forehead. “Me too,” he replied. 

She smiled softly. He hadn’t said it back yet, a part of him thought maybe he couldn’t, but he needed her to know how much he cared about her. 

“What do you want to do tonight?” she asked and Dean glanced up thoughtfully, pressing a finger to his lips. 

Just then the first notes to “Brown Eyed Girl” began to play on the radio and he smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“D’you wanna dance?” he asked and she pressed her cheek to his chest. 

“Absolutely,” she replied. He pressed her closer, and they swayed around the kitchen, just enjoying the moment. 

Heat pooled in the pit of his stomach when she slotted her legs between his, moving her hands down to the small of his back. She dipped her fingers just under the lip of his sweatpants and he had to suck in a breath to keep from bucking his hips into hers. 

Quietly, he began to sing the lyrics into her ear. It was a song he had associated with her ever since their first fling over a decade ago, a perfect song for a perfect moment. 

As the song came to a close, he brought her lips to his. The kiss was soft, tentative, but after a moment Lisa had pressed harder, opening her mouth and deepening the kiss with a soft moan. 

Dean’s breathing became unsteady and he lifted his hands to her neck, thrusting his fingers into her long hair, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. 

He moaned. Her skin was warm against his. Dean pulled away from her briefly, taking a deep breath. Lisa met his eyes. “Make love to me,” she demanded, breathless. 

Dean gently pushed her backward toward the living room. “Okay,” he replied. 

He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the ground. They weren’t going to make it to the bedroom, so he steered her over to the couch as she jerked his t-shirt over his head. 

It slowed down once they crashed to the soft couch. They finished undressing each other leisurely, pulling each article of clothing off with reverence. Lisa knelt over him and pulled off his socks, one by one and kissed the inside of his ankle. 

Dean unclasped her bra with one hand, palming her breast with the other. They kissed shallowly, barely tasting one another as they moved slowly in the firelight. 

By the time both of them were naked, Dean was panting. He grabbed her waist, pulling her to him until she was straddling his hips. 

Dean let his fingers trail down her sides and over her hips, across her thighs where she jumped, ticklish. Then he brushed the small patch of curly hair at the apex of her legs. She was wet and Dean brought his fingers up to his lips to taste her. 

Her eyes darkened and she moaned into his touch, pressing closer. Dean swirled his thumb around her clit, biting back his own moan as Lisa grabbed his erection. 

It was slow, teasing. She positioned the head of his cock at her entrance and in one fluid movement thrust down until he was sheathed inside her. She pressed down on his shoulders until he was laying back against the arm rest, holding him in place as she began to move against him.

The only sounds were his harsh breathing as she rode him. She found a rhythm and thrust harder, moaning as every upward thrust brushed her clit with his pubic bone. 

Dean grit his teeth and stared up at the popcorn ceiling when he felt her climax around him. She let out a deep breath and relaxed and Dean grabbed her hips roughly, turning them so that his head was resting against the back of the couch and her legs dangled over the front, her toes resting on the soft fabric of the area rug. 

He thrust up into her harder than she had ridden him, feeling his own release building. Lisa wrapped her arms around his shoulders and after a hard thrust, she gasped, scratching him as he hit her sweet spot. 

She came again and Dean let out a hoarse shout as fell over the edge moments later, freezing as he spilled into her. 

Lisa fell forward, adjusting their position until she was cradled in his arms. 

“I love you,” she murmured into his chest as it rose and fell against her cheek. 

“I—I love you, too,” he finally said, his voice broken, and she tightened her arms around him. They stayed like that for a long time. Finally Lisa stood up and went to the bathroom. 

Dean grabbed his sweat pants and pulled them on. He heard the shower running as he poured himself another mug of whiskey. 

By the time she emerged twenty minutes later, Dean was on his second drink. She was wearing a long t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks. Her bare legs were shiny in the low light. 

Dean smiled at her and patted the space by his side. She didn't say anything about the almost empty bottle of Wild Turkey on the side table. Instead she just grabbed her book from its spot next to the bottle and snuggled down into the couch, resting her feet against his thigh. She read for a while as Dean listened to the music still playing on the radio in the kitchen. Eventually, she fell asleep and Dean pulled the book from her grasp and set it on the coffee table. 

He poured himself another glass. 

He wasn’t drunk, but he was getting there. Dean swirled the whiskey around the Garfield mug and took another long sip. As he drank, Dean absently traced patterns into the smooth skin of Lisa’s thigh, draped lazily across his lap as she slept.  

Outside, he could hear the snow plows driving down their road. His eyes became heavy after his fourth drink, and he emptied the bottle with his fifth. 

He passed out around ten. The last thing he remembered was the sound of the mug shattering on the hardwood floor. 

 


End file.
